...And Gladly Teach

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: Here in New England, students went back to school for the first time this past Thursday or Friday. (I continue to maintain starting the year at the very end of August, near Labor Day, is the True and Right way to do it, but I acknowledge this is a the minority view in the US.) 

Colleges and Universities are back in the swing; I taught my first class of the semester on Wednesday.  This is my second September without one of my kids in school (Youngest graduated in May, '22) and it still feels weird to be off the great solstice of the parental year after a quarter century. Of course, Youngest is now talking about grad school, so...

 Kindergarten through MBAs and Medical degrees, one constant figure is the teacher. I've had many in my life. My mother got a masters in education and supported her children for several years as a single mom after her divorce. Many of you know my late husband was a special ed teacher. But I want to call out some of my own teachers who helped shape who I am today.

 

Suzanne Ovitt: my first teacher after I arrived back in the US after almost four years living abroad. My parents were divorcing, I was off a military base for the first time in my life, and I was a wreck. Her gentle, supportive, caring presence got me restarted in my new life.

 

Al Marshall: I can't recall if Mr. Marshall taught me English in 6th, 7th or 8th grade. I do recall his enthusiasm for my writing. He took a poem of mine and tacked it up in the teachers' lounge with a note: Don't tell me kids in our school aren't creative. (I know this because my mom was a long term sub there.) He was the first teacher to lay the foundation for my belief I could be a writer.

 

Miss Sutton: I never knew my senior English teacher's first name - our small group of very bright smart-alecks called her Sutton Hoo.  She was actually an adjunct of Syracuse University; we were getting college credit for her class and boy did she make us work for it. Each Monday we were assigned a current affairs topic. On Friday, we had to turn in a well-reasoned Baconian essay on it - five paragraphs, each with five sentences, the whole structured around topic, three arguments in order of strength, and conclusion. Typos, poor grammar and spelling errors were unacceptable. Miss Sutton prepared me for law school eight years before I thought about going.  

Robert Ryan and John "Jack" Pavia: Professors Ryan and Pavia weren't just amazing teachers of history at Ithaca College, they also opened their hearts and homes to students. Prof. Ryan had regular dinners for the history majors, where he would produce gourmet meals that left his small kitchen looking like a food bomb had exploded. Prof. Pavia took us sailing on Lake Cayuga, and along with a great deal of information about Japanese history and literature, he imparted a piece of wisdom I have always remembered: A boat should be big enough for a cooler full of drinks."

I had started with the goal of a BFA in acting, but when I realized I was loving my history classes SO much more than those in voice and movement, I changed majors. 

 

Finally,  not my own teacher, but my kids': Nancy Ouellette. Mrs. Ouellette had all three of my children in her second grade class at St. Patrick's School and lived to tell the tale. She was a funny, compassionate teacher who handled loose teeth with aplomb (so many loose teeth!) and had a creative curriculum that blended science, mathematics and writing together in a way that kept her students engaged and interested in learning. She was Maine's Catholic School Teacher of the Year in '17, and rightly so. Mrs. Ouellette, I hope you're enjoyed a well-earned retirement.

 

How about you, dear readers? Who were the teachers who left their mark on your lives?

Pomp and Circumstance by Jenn McKinlay

 JENN McKINLAY: When I dropped Hooligan 2 off at Kindergarten way back in 2008, I had no idea the next thirteen years would whip by at the speed of light. H2 was a little league playing, skateboard riding, Avatar (the cartoon)-loving scamp and I swear I blinked -- for a nanosecond -- and now he’s taller than me, is bi-literate (Eng/Span), and a complete gym rat fitness nut -- no, we have no idea where he came from. Thankfully, he gets to have an actual graduation ceremony with limited seating -- unlike the poor graduates last year -- so Hub and I will be in the stadium bleachers this Thursday night to clap and cheer as he strides across the stage to get his diploma like his brother did two years ago. 

The graduation ceremony hasn’t changed much since I received my diploma -- many, many years ago. It’s the same awkward shuffle march to Pomp and Circumstance, it’s hot, the seats are hard, a baby is always crying, the speeches are long, and your hands get tired of clapping after graduate one hundred and one, still, you soldier on because it’s a magical moment. There is something about witnessing the turning of the tassel, as the students move it from right to left that gets me every time. Seriously, it’s a sob fest.

As for my own graduation, I remember being so thrilled to be an adult -- finally! I think I thought I’d wake up the next day a completely different person. I did not. Instead, I nursed a mild hangover (no, I was not of age) while I put on my fabulous polyester uniform and headed to my part-time gig at  Friendly’s to dish ice cream to rambunctious grade schoolers while chatting with my friends. Still, I was a graduate and that felt pretty amazing. College was months away and we had a whole summer to be free. Kind of wish I could relive that summer all over again, you know? 

Jenn (center) with Diane (L) and Cindy (R).

How about you Reds? What are your special (or not) memories of high school graduation?   

LUCY BURDETTE: Jenn, congrats to you and your hub for raising such interesting young men! I don’t remember a lot of detail about my high school graduation, except for the singing. This was the peak of my musical career, singing with the prestigious high school chorale. (I am what’s called a ‘leaning alto’, meaning don’t even think about asking me to sing in a quartet or as a solo. I think I was included based on personality and persistence.) We had bonded so closely and it was definitely bittersweet to be saying goodbye. Picture is of me with our chorale director, Al Dorhout. We adored him!

Lucy with Mr. Dorhout

JENN: Mr. D. had righteous sideburns, Lucy!

HALLIE EPHRON: I remember… just about nothing at all. What I wore, yes - but only because I have a picture of me and my mother after. The photo my parents took from their seats of me, supposedly walking across to get my diploma, are basically of the backs of the heads of people sitting in front of them. Who spoke? No idea. I was so ready to be on a plane out of there, on to another coast and a start-over-from-scratch with new friends in a big city. 

Hallie's graduation

JENN: Hallie you look beautiful! So classy!

DEBORAH CROMBIE: Oops, I didn't graduate from high school. I dropped out at sixteen, eventually got my GED, went to college(s). So no cap and gown, no prom. I did graduate from college however, and I mostly remember how hot it was that day--the ceremony was outside--and I was sweltering under the gown. I have no idea who spoke. My hair was really short and in the photos my shoes looked ridiculously clunky. But even that graduation was almost a year after I'd actually finished my degree in the summer, so I didn't even get to graduate with my classmates.  But I had been to England for the first time the previous September, and all I could think about was getting back and traveling as much as I could on my own. I had already moved on. 

JENN: You are a force of nature, Debs! I love it!

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: Oh, yikes I have no memory of this. Except  for one. (Backstory: I had spent much of my senior year in Germany, and did NOT want to come home, and my mother forced me to return for the last semester of senior year. I was not in the flow, not at all, so there was no camaraderie or sentimentality about it. I just wanted it all to be over so I could be in the world and do real things.)  

Anyway.  School was over and classes were over, or course, done and  dusted. I had gotten a great dress for the ceremony--right out of Carnaby Street. A white lace mini-dress.  With white lace stockings and chunky shoes.

I loved it. (I probably looked like a big walking doily, but in my mind was Jean Shrimpton.)  So I showed up at the gym for the ceremony (Were my parents there? They must have been.) 

And the vice-principal took me aside and said “You have to go home and change. That skirt is too short.”

And I said: “What’re you going to do, expel me?”

He told me to put on the graduation gown and not take it off.

And that’s all I remember. So sad that there are no photos. But maybe it’s for the best.

Jean Shrimption shocks the world with hem four inches above the knee!
I can totally see our Hank looking just like this. Fabulous!

RHYS BOWEN:  Hank, you were as feisty as I was! But we had no graduation in England. We had prize day at which some of us got awards. But I do remember my college graduation—diploma presented by the Queen Mum and highlight of the day was that she recognized my dad. He exhibited every year at the British industries fair and the royals always came for a preview and chatted. She saw him as she walked down the aisle and gave him a big smile. Made his day!

JENN: Diploma from the Queen Mum! I'm gobsmacked!

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: Honestly, all my best graduations have been my kids' graduations. Here's what I recall from mine:

High school. Hot. We were seated alphabetically and I didn't know anyone around me (it was a class of about 450.) Gift: Electric typewriter with an erase cartridge so I didn't have to use Wite Out! Aw, yisss.

College: Hot. Raining, so we relocated into the gym, which smelled bad. Gift: Small black and white portable TV. Cool.

Grad school: Didn't go.

Law school: Hot. Beautiful setting, in the oldest church in Portland, ME, First Parish UU. Gift: Ross and I went out to dinner.

My kids' graduations were much better, because I didn't have to wear an uncomfortable polyester robe, I got to sit with people I knew, and, unlike when I was marching, I get hopelessly weepy the moment I hear the strains of Elgar's tune. When I was graduating (and it's true, I maybe overdid it) the ceremony was kind of a speed bump on my way to something bigger and better (or, in the case of law school, a summer cramming for the bar exam.) By the time I got to see my children graduate, I was old enough to really appreciate these moments that hinge yesterday and tomorrow in our lives.

JENN: I agree, Julia! The boys' graduations have been my faves, this is assuming Hooligan 2 doesn't burst into flames during finals this week and not graduate. Both my dudes are photo-finish graduates so the suspense has been INTENSE! Friday, I plan to nap! LOL.

What about you, Readers? What do you remember of your high school graduation?

Roz Nay Won't Be a Secret for Long!

INGRID THOFT

A quick note before today's guest:  Our very own Jenn McKinlay just won "RT Magazine's" Reviewer's Choice Award for Best Love and Laughter for her book, "About a Dog."  Congrats, Jenn!

Back to our regularly scheduled program...

It's a thrill to welcome today's guest, Roz Nay, to the blog.  Roz is the author of the debut novel, "Our Little Secret," a book garnering awards and accolades across the globe.  Released in Canada last year and now available in the U.S., "Our Little Secret" won the Douglas Kennedy Prize for Best Foreign Thriller in France last May, and it's been nominated for the Arthur Ellis Best First Crime Novel, a national Canadian award.  Featured on "Entertainment Weekly’s" Must List, the novel also earned a rave from "The Washington Post" and starred reviews from "Library Journal" and "Booklist."

The book is a twisty, suspenseful tale of high school love and what happens to sweethearts as they grow older and embark on new lives.  It's a page-turner that will keep you guessing until the end.  

INGRID THOFT:  The seeds of "Our Little Secret” are planted in the high school romance of the two main characters, Angela and HP.  What made you decide to use that as the jumping off point for the story?

ROZ NAY:  I think because of the years I spent working as a high school English teacher. I used to watch the clever girls graduate and wonder what their lives would become. They had so much potential – everything was in front of them. It’s a powerful time. Then, in my twisted little mind, I wondered what would happen if a gifted girl ended up in a life she didn’t feel she deserved. How would she use her cleverness then?

IPT:  The book centers on the complicated relationship between Angela, HP, and his eventual wife, Saskia.  Did you prefer writing one character’s arc more than the others?  Inhabiting one character more than another?

RN:  I tried to make all the characters different – and differently flawed. HP was fun to write because he was so easygoing, and a lot of his lines are things that have come directly out of my own husband’s mouth. Saskia was fun because I wanted to make her the kind of woman to whom readers would react in really distinct ways. Some readers can’t stand her; others champion her. But ultimately, Angela’s arc was the most enjoyable to write. Hers was the first voice I heard, and that voice is the reason I wrote the novel. It all began with her. I found her kind of delicious to inhabit, which is perhaps something I should be more worried about.

IPT:  Don't be worried!  Enjoying the dark side is the hallmark of a good mystery/suspense writer!  I’ve heard from our mutual friend, Chevy Stevens, that you don’t write your scenes in order.  Can you tell us more about that?

RN:  I think with this book, I was writing scraps of scenes in total chaos, grabbing time when I could. I wrote "Our Little Secret" at a time when both my children were very young, and the writing was patch worked in among all the demands of new motherhood. I was always sure of Angela’s arc and wrote pieces of that first because she was driving the narrative. Now that I’m working on my second (and third) book, I’ve developed a more structured schedule and I tend to write more chronologically to the plot. But with "Our Little Secret" it was a gong show. It’s amazing it ever got finished.

IPT:  What has surprised you most about being a published author?

RN:  Mostly the fact that I’m a published author! That fact alone is astonishing. It’s been a big, fast year full of book adventure. I was surprised that I got to go to Paris alone for a week, which felt like an entirely different planet. These days I’m surprised every time someone stops me in the street to say they’ve liked the book. Strangers reading my work! That’s a really big deal when you think about it. And to get such a groundswell of support, too, from well-known writers (yourself and Chevy Stevens included) who want to help the book along is quite the lovely surprise.   

IPT:  Is there a wannabe book lurking in the back of your brain, something you would write if you didn’t have to consider agents, editors, and fans?  A romance?  Non-fiction?

RN:  I’d like to write a kind of Bridget Jones-y romantic comedy. I always thought if I ever got a book together, it’d be humour I wrote, but I seem to have strayed early to the dark side. I’m also quite interested in YA… I enjoyed writing the first half of "Our Little Secret" where everything was teenaged and idyllic: I wouldn’t mind spending a little more time in that world again. Mind you, Chevy Stevens is hoping I’ll write a sequel to OLS starring only HP. She has her reasons.

IPT:  I bet she does!

Roz will be here today answering your questions and is giving away two copies of "Our Little Secret."  Just comment to enter the giveaway!

"Our Little Secret"

They say you never forget your first love. What they don’t say though, is that sometimes your first love won’t forget you…

Angela Petitjean sits in a cold, dull room. The police have been interrogating her for hours, asking about Saskia Parker. She’s the wife of Angela’s high school sweetheart, HP, and the mother of his child. She has vanished. Homicide Detective J. Novak believes Angela knows what happened to Saskia. He wants the truth, and he wants it now.

But Angela has a different story to tell. It began more than a decade ago when she and HP met in high school in Cove, Vermont. She was an awkward, shy teenager. He was a popular athlete. They became friends, fell in love, and dated senior year. Everything changed when Angela went to college. When time and distance separated them. When Saskia entered the picture.

That was eight years ago. HP foolishly married a drama queen and Angela moved on with her life. Whatever marital rift caused Saskia to leave her husband has nothing to do with Angela. Nothing at all. Detective Novak needs to stop asking questions and listen to what Angela is telling him. And once he understands everything, he’ll have the truth he so desperately wants…

Roz Nay grew up in England and studied at Oxford University. She has been published in The Antigonish Review and the anthology Refuge. Roz has worked as an underwater fish counter in Africa, a snowboard videographer in Vermont, and a high school teacher in both the UK and Australia. She now lives in British Columbia, Canada, with her husband and two children. "Our Little Secret" is her first novel. Follow her on Twitter @roznay1 and on Facebook.com/roznay1.

Haunted by High School

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN:  So—high school. My reunion is coming up, and it got me thinking about what went on back then. 

There were the students—girls—who went away and didn’t come back. The  boys who were “hoody” as we called them, who did mysterious stuff.  We talked about the goat killer, of course. (Did you have him?) And one classmate died in a car accident—sad, but not sinister.

But we were all mesmerized by the killing of a local school-aged girl named Sylvia Likens—she was tortured to death by a gruesome landlady and her hideous collection of teenage crazy people. Yeesh. I still get chills. They called the killer The Torture Mother.

Anyway.

Susan Bickford's debut mystery, A Short Time to Die has its start and heart in high school. This dark tale of suspense opens as Mary Shaw hears gunshots on her way home from a high school dance in rural Central New York. A wild chase begins, ending in the death of two men and the start of her life on the run.

Susan, tell us more! (And whoo hoo—a giveaway at the end!)  

SUSAN BICKFORD: One of the biggest ah ha moments for me came in writing the middle part of A Short Time to Die. It took me down a dark path that I hadn’t intended to travel and challenged me to look at many aspects of human nature that I found disturbing. When I looked back over my shoulder, I was surprised by the rough road I had traveled.

The inspiration for the opening scene was much more simple and also easily compelling.

At the end of my freshman year in high school, two classmates from my homeroom did not show up for the last day of classes. They had gone to a local swimming hole in their bathing suits and never came back. There were whispers that they had “run off.”

They hadn’t run off. Their bodies were found several months later, but that didn’t stop the whispers, blaming them for their own deaths.  Their killer or killers were never found or identified.

Decades later when I started writing, I knew I needed to address the deep ache that episode had imprinted in my heart. I had to write about a girl who is confronted with mortal danger and escapes.  A Short Time to Die begins with a chase and the deaths of her assailants. She doesn’t go to the police. She doesn’t tell her family. She goes home as if nothing happened and makes her plans to get as far away from her this town and her family as possible.

That was the easy part.

I knew I had a compelling beginning, but what next? Why couldn’t Marly go to the police even though she knew it was the right thing to do? If she couldn’t tell her family, what kind of people were they? What about the community around her?

Marly’s life is dominated by her extended family, the Harris clan, a loosely connected gang of relatives who operate a criminal network out of the rural area where they live. What made these characters so twisted and cruel?

As I wrote, I realized that there is a side to all of us that comes from our ancestors who had to identify the weakest animal in a pack of deer, for example, or recognize danger.

Sadly, that instinct also can be used in a cruel way, to pick out others who are weaker or different and target them for bullying or abuse. Marly’s family is filled with people like this, who infect their own relatives and neighbors with violence and fear.

At the same time, there is another ancient instinct: empathy. The ability to feel the pain and emotions of others allowed our ancestors also to form bonds with those around them, ensuring safety and comfort.

Marly realizes that she cannot survive—let alone escape—on her own. She gradually sees that there are people around her who are ready to help if she will let them.

Marly and her step-father, Del, are opposite sides of the same coin. Both are smart, self-aware, and resourceful. Del succumbs to the crushing malevolence of his family, but that same environment pushes Marly to embrace empathy and that is what enables her to survive and build a life.

 A life I could have wished for my classmates.

Did anything happen to you in high school that haunts you? Or is there an event that’s haunted you for years?   I’d love to hear. I’ll be picking a commenter’s name at random to receive a gift copy of A Short Time to Die.

Hank: Yeah, so fascinating! It makes me realize that there as probably a lot more going  on than I knew. Now I’m thinking about Sylvia Likens again. The world was so much smaller then, right? Did that make us feel safer? Or not?  And do you have a haunting high school memory?

Susan will draw a winner tonight! 

 ******   

Susan Alice Bickford was born in Boston, Massachusetts, and grew up in Central New York.

After she discovered computer graphics and animation her passion for technology pulled her to Silicon Valley, where she became an executive at a leading technology company.

She now works as an independent consultant, and continues to be fascinated by all things high tech. She splits her time between Silicon Valley and Vermont.

A Short Time to Die is her first novel.

Find her on Facebook and Twitter and on her website: www.susanalicebickford.com

A Short Time to Die 

Walking home on a foggy night, Marly Shaw stops in the glare of approaching headlights. Two men step out of a pickup truck. A sudden, desperate chase erupts in gunshots. Both men are left dead. And a terrified girl is on the run—for the rest of her life . . .

Thirteen years later, human bones discovered in the Santa Cruz Mountains of California are linked to a mother and son from Central New York. Santa Clara County Sheriff’s Detective Vanessa Alba and her partner, Jack Wong, dive into an investigation that lures them deep into the Finger Lakes. They find a community silenced by the brutal grip of a powerful family bound by a twisted sense of blood and honor, whose dark secrets still haunt the one family member who thought she got away . . .

****************** 

 Sylvia Likens photo courtesy: By Source (WP:NFCC#4), Fair use, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?curid=42564231 

Will I See You at the Reunion?

INGRID THOFT

A few years ago, my best friend from college and I stood on the threshold of a dorm room at our alma mater.  We surveyed the scene, and she said what I was thinking:  “It’s smaller, right?  It wasn’t this small when we were here.”  It was, in fact, that small.  The good news was that the prison issue sheets were so rough they exfoliated our skin while we slept.  When we ventured into the common bathrooms, my friend pulled back the shower curtain on one of the stalls and exclaimed, “Oh. My. Word.!”  If you knew my friend, you would know this was the equivalent of blue streak from a sailor. 

Coarse sheets and grungy shower stalls aside, I’ve attended all of my college reunions, every five years.  My attendance is partly due to my mom who attended the same college and is a firm believer that reunions are must-attend events.  Our reunions aren’t wild parties by any stretch of the imagination, but they are an opportunity to revisit college traditions, reconnect with friends, and interact with women who are sharing comparable challenges and experiencing similar milestones.  Both my mom and I have found that the relationships we had while at school are just one piece of reunion:  It’s the opportunity for new relationships that is an unexpected delight.

I have to admit, I haven’t made an effort to attend any of my high school reunions, and I wonder if they would be as fulfilling as my college events.  I somehow doubt it, but maybe I’m really missing out. 

I never miss my annual family reunion, which happens every summer.  It’s just the immediate family, and as the grandkids get older, it has become more of a scheduling puzzle, but we try to do it just the same.  We squeeze a lot into a short span of time: a badminton tournament, a scavenger hunt, Uncle Doug’s steak tips on the grill, and a sleepover in Nana’s room.  And t-shirts!  We have a new t-shirt every year, which we wear around town during the scavenger hunt.  This prompts questions from strangers like, "Are you part of a sports team?"  No, but we're great at badminton! 

 

Your turn:  Are you a reunion-goer? Avoid them like the plague?  College, high school or family?